Mysterious thing, Time
by faithfaux
Summary: Hermione Granger had no doubt 1 August 1997 was to be the worst day of her life. She thought doing it twice over was just the universe's way of having her pay for her past mistakes, because after all, can the past be truly changed? Hermione/Fleur femslash
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing, not for profit and all that.

 **A.N.:** Hey everyone, I'm a huge fan of Fleurmione and since I have apparently read every single fic on this pairing in the entire universe, I decided to try my chances at writing one. English is not my first language and I have not written a single story in a really long time so I readily apologize for all mistakes and nonsense. Prologue is super short, but first chapter is right with it.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

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 _Prologue_

She sat on the wooden stool with a small fragile object chain dangling from her fingers as she stared vaguely ahead. Every minute or so she would sigh, or so the young wizard took note as he had observed over the last thirty minutes or so.

They were both muddy, bruised and exhausted, yet refused to leave the gloomy kitchen. The boy didn't know why she sat still, he knew only why he waited. He felt darkness around his own neck, trying to lure him every second of every moment; still he knew his best friend needed him. She was close to a breakdown and someone had to be by her side. He had to be by her side.

That is why when the pattern was broken and instead of a sigh, he heard his best friend's voice, hoarse and dull, he controlled himself not to gasp in surprise.

"How many do you think it would take, Harry?"

"Take what?"

She finally stopped twirling the small object and raised her head to look him in the eyes, "Turns. How many turns do you think it would take?"

Hermione took a deep breath and the wizard waited for her next words. He learnt more of his friend in the last 24 hours than all the years they had known each other combined. He could try and blame the war, constant danger and threats on their lives, but there was really no excuse not to have seen that the one person who had been by his side through all of those had been falling apart.

"To go back 3 years and fix what I've done"


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Again, I own absolutely nothing, this is not for profit and all that.

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The sound of a door closing stirred the young witch away from the downing slumber she once again found herself in. She couldn't call it sleep and she didn't have to open her eyes to know that she looked like rubbish and reeked of alcohol. The cheap type. At least one advantage from being driven into potions excellence by the madness of Severus Snape, a small vial and the throbbing headache and nausea were gone. Today was the day and she hoped Mr. Weasley's secret stash would be just as easily robbed as the previous night and she'd be able to start the day's 'festivities' early on.

It was August 1, 1997. The wedding day. Her wedding day and the brightest witch of her age surely wouldn't be sober for that special event.

Ginny still slept soundly on the bed next to hers and probably wouldn't be awake before Mrs. Weasley decided it was time to barge in and slave out everyone for the last minute preparations along with the more considerate Madame Delacour. Yet it seemed another had taken the position as Hermione heard quick steps coming up the staircase and quickly reached for her wand. A cleansing spell was out and working seconds before the door was violently opened and Ronald Weasley barged in.

"Mione, why are you still in bed?" He voiced frantically. "Better yet, hide me! My mum has gone mad I say, and chances are there won't even be a wedding because Fleur just goes around changing everything and I think mum and her might actually kill each other before noon"

"Your family, Ronald." She got up grabbing some random clothes and the beat up copy of the Tales of Beedle the bard and crossing the door without paying mind to the stunned redhead "Deal with them yourself"

"Jeez, what's got your wand in a knot?" He grunted, but the brunette was already inside the bathroom and out of earshot. Shaking his head, Ron went upstairs and maybe if he was lucky he could avoid all women for the next foreseable future.

Hermione took her time showering and preparing for the dreadful day ahead. Maybe if she cried all her tears under the cold water she could hold on and look mildly decent. She knew the odds were against her though. She felt like punching the wall and putting the entire building on fire would still not be enough to relieve her of the anguish she felt. She felt betrayed. Not by her. No, that was hermione's own doing and price to pay. She felt betrayed by time for each minute felt like an eternity and perhaps numbing herself to make it bearable simply wouldn't work that day.

She could still try though.

She was losing her mind. She was perfectly aware of that. She could even pinpoint the exact moment she felt the last remains of her sanity being crushed to pieces.

That beautiful invitation with a perfectly poised handwriting she knew so well. How many letters and hidden notes had she received with those same patterns and markings?

None was left to cling to, to remind her that maybe she wasn't going mad after all. All burnt out of cowardice. What a clown Gryffindor she was.

Whatever was the case, the woman she loved was getting married on that day, to somebody else.

She was barely at the lower end of the staircase when the familiar feeling of the other woman's presence announced itself. It was like a deep familiar scent that filled her lungs and made her feel warm and loved. At least it used to in a time she constantly longed to return to. Nonetheless, as she felt it at that moment, it only clinged to her skin, showing it's presence, its' closeness, but refusing to show its affection. She sometimes thought it had a mind of its' own and was showing its' spite at whom she had become.

Yet if only she held still and focused, she'd at times feel the blond's breath by her ear, her heartbeat hanging on to her back, no matter how far apart the two women actually were.

It drove her with madness and gave her hope at the very same time. She knew it wasn't a figment of her imagination. It couldn't be. It was simply the blond's vengeful side making it self ever present. The blond's slaving presence had a mood all of her own, and at that moment it made her know that the other woman knew of her presence downstairs. Also that she was disappointed, but was that really news?

The blond witch was quiet while a number of different voices were flowing over a number of tea and coffee cups. Remaining members of the order discussed their latest developments and actions despite Mrs. Weasley's remarks on that day not being a work day and they had enough talk of wars on a daily basis.

The talks of how close the Darklord was to taking over the ministry was looming, but that wasn't all. There were missing people reports, guard posts and people being tracked and taken to safe houses for questioning. On one subject though, Hermione agreed with Bill Weasley. It was time to stop defending and taking an offensive approach and part of that involved going after Order dissidents and hitting death eaters who were known to be close to Voldemort. Being good wasn't a synonym for being passive. It was true what Bill wanted truly was to enact revenge on Greyback, but it didn't make it a bad strategy.

The whistling sound from the backdoor open brought her back out of the haze the blond's presence created in her. She had to disappear before Mrs. Weasley could recruit her perforce. It was one thing to attend, but to help with the decorations was just the final nail on her coffin.

Her walk to the shed was quiet if not for the one or two time she hid inside the surrounding crops. It was a short walk and in spite of all the mess and extra things put there by Mrs. Weasly to hide from house guests during the wedding, the muggle paraphernalia kept around by Mr. Weasley brought a strange sense of calmness to her.

It wasn't long before popped out the hidden firewhisky bottle from behind the old television and sat on the old recliner with the beat up book and some of her previous notes from the study of ancient runes. The distance and the alcohol helped dull the effects the quarter-veela had on her, maybe then she'd be able to start on the dire translation and make sense of whatever Dumbledore tried to relay.

Laying there, already past tipsy, with the book and hanging poorly from one hand and the firewhisky on the other, she couldn't deny the picture was hardly 'brightest witch of her age' material or declared any real progress had been made.

Over an hour and half a bottle went through before she felt it again crawling up her skin and she knew what it she could stop herself she jumped up from the recliner, book in hand and marched out of the shed to where she knew she'd find the source of her anguish.

She should have known better than to storm out like that straight to her. Perhaps put up the regular spells to dispel the smell and bloodshot eyes, but she had little control over her actions by the time she reached the reception tent.

For the first time in many a days, in over a year actually, there was just the two of them and she was allowed to look at Fleur Delacour without restraint or caution, and she lost her breath. Unconsciously, she felt herself not only welcoming, but pulling the woman's thrall inside her felt like home for all 5 seconds until the other woman turned and cut the air with her voice

"Arrêtez!"

The brunette sobered almost instantly at the icy cold eyes directed at her. "I'm sorry I…"

"Just stop and leave, Mademoiselle Granger" Her voice was dull and betrayed little of what she felt. She went on checking the last of the ropes holding the tent,turning and completely ignoring the younger witch.

The brunette begged, "Fleur, please. Can you just, not ignore me for a moment?"

It fell on deaf ears, not surprising considering how stubborn the beautiful blond was known to be. She pulled at another rope and seemed to consider its' safety as though there was nothing more relevant at the moment to pay mind to.

"For Merlin's sake, Fleur. Those bloody ropes are not falling over your precious wedding in case you wish to check them a tenth time. I helped set them up myself"

"It seems warranted indeed considering you can barely walk straight on a good day" The accusation stung however truthful it was. "Tell me, Mademoiselle Granger, how does the Golden Trio plan on defeating the Darklord when their mind and brain can't go a day without reeking of cheap alcohol"

"A shame you father-in-law's selection isn't up to your standards" Hermione had the decency to look embarrassed, but she was still just as stubborn as the blonde veela. She knew her chances of keeping that a secret from the blonde were slim to none. Nevertheless she'd hoped to leave before having it thrown at her face.

It was certainly not her best choice of words as Fleur immediately shut down once more and, with an exhasperated sigh, turned to leave. She felt Hermione's clumsy steps towards her and turned with fury in her eyes. The closeness driving the both of them into a haze all of their own.

"Tu n'ose pas!" She pulled her arm back before the brunette could reach it. She gasped as she didn't count on the young woman losing her footing and falling straight into her.

Fleur held her with as little strength as she possessed.

They knew better than to be in that place, on that very day of them all.

The low-spoken words that left Hermione misled their eruptive nature, but it was too late to take them back. "Don't marry him"


	3. Chapter 2

"'ermione…" The young witch thought she would never hear that sound again. Her name coming out of the beautiful blonde. It gave her the hope she thought had left her.

"Please don't marry him, ma belle" Fleur could no longer hold her tears "I thought I could do this, but Fleur…I can't let you do this"

The veela's breath hitched and she pushed the brunette far enough to recover some of her senses and growl through her tears "You have no say in what I can or cannot do, Mademoiselle Granger"

"You think this is fair then? On you, on Bill!" The brunette wanted to scream in frustration. She was wrong and selfish, but if that was to be her last chance then so be it. "Doesn't he deserve to be with someone who can actually love him back?"

"I love Bill" It was a lie. Merlin knew it was a lie, but it still hurt. "Now leave and let me be happy or haven't you had enough of ruining my life?"

Perhaps that was the reason time and again she had avoided confronting the veela, she didn't want to hear the truth of her mistakes being thrown back in her face.

"I'm sorry" Hermione nodded dejectedly trying to rain down her sobs for a couple moments more. She wouldn't be able to stay there much longer after all.

"Just…please let me say this or else…please" Hermione pleaded "I don't deserve it and I will expect you to do nothing more than forget and ignore it, but just let me…"

The older witch waited quietly. She had joked so many times, to Hermione's annoyance, on the brunette being a tiny human being and yet even with the spur of growth that made the brunette into more of a woman than a girl, she had never looked quite as small as she did right then.

"I dreamt of this day so many times. Of you in that beautiful white dress you kept drawing around my spare scrolls, just being your sappy self crying and smiling at the same time" She smiled sadly trying to keep her voice from cracking.

"I just thought…I thought I'd be the one up there… just waiting to start the rest of my life with you"

Fleur gasped and kept shaking her head. This needed to stop. This should have never started. She was so close.

"You say you love Bill. I don't believe you" Hermione stated with a sureness she had trouble explaining after months of agony and doubt over that damned letter of invitation "You say you're happy. I don't believe you either"

The older woman opened her mouth, but Hermione was faster "Don't deny it, Fleur. I've seen you happy. Merlin, I've made you happy"

"However, you are right. I can't stop you. All I can do is tell you this" The brunette didn't recognize her own voice. Her hands trembled yet she had never been surer of anything."I love you"

"You were the one who pushed me away, Hermione" Fleur's control was cracking by the minute. She should have never allowed the conversation to come to that.

"I was a coward, Merlin knows there is no excusing that, but I was a child, Fleur" She tried to reason and reach the blonde, but her step forward was met with a distinct step back by the blonde, so she halted.

"What makes you think you are no longer a child? A self…" Her breath was ragged and short and if maybe Hermione hadn't been so hurt by the cutting words, she would have noticed something wasn't quite right. "Selfish one at that if you can't see other people happy and let them be"

"You know that is not true, mon coeur" The caring words came naturally. She knew it would always soften Fleur's moods to her the british's terrible attempts at french.

"I thought I knew things. Knowledge and books are a tricky devious thing I learnt. Every single professor at Hogwarts, bar Snape to whom I'm barely mediocre, would tell you I'm the brightest witch of my age because I can quote Bagshot word by word or perform Goshawk silent and wandless." It was ironic how people's perception of her was departed from hers, from who she knew herself to be "That only makes me powerful"

"I loved the most amazing woman in the world and was lucky enough to have her love me back, and I pushed her away. From my point of view, that makes me quite dumb" She knew that would be her last chance to be truthful to someone who deserved nothing less. She didn't seek forgiveness or understanding and she no longer hoped her confession effected any change in the days events, but she couldn't hold it any longer. Maybe Fleur was right, she was selfish after all.

"I pushed her...I pushed you away because I was scared, but i'm not scared anymore"

A deep silence follows the younger woman's confession.

Nothing about the start of that day told Hermione that this is how it would turn out. That the words she said every night in her sleep would finally accompany breaths out of her lungs. Even with her eyes slightly swollen with tears, closed as she seemed to take in Hermione's words and closeness, Fleur still looked like the most beautiful woman in the words to Hermione. She remembers the days when she thought she would never see that face again. The summer after her fourth year at Hogwarts. She decayed into a shadow of herself and everyone was too busy with Cedric's death and Voldemort's return to pay attention. She eventually learnt how to deal with it, with her own failure doing what everyone expected of her and focusing on the war that was about to break out.

That was until she heard of the blonde's new job, in Britain of all places. Time and again she told herself that she would visit her a the diagon alley and confess how it had all been a mistake, a child's mistake that she longed to repent and go back to those times when none of them would sleep by themselves at night. However, Hermione soon found out she was the only one sleeping by herself and she didn't have to visit Gringotts to find that out herself. No, the consequences of her actions and subsequent apathy only unraveled themselves after a year of 'i'll go there and fix this soon' when she sat for lunch at the Burrow and had to hear all about Bill's snotty new girlfriend from Mrs. Weasley. Lunch didn't sit on her stomach for long that day.

There was a long period of denial when she simply couldn't accept it as being true. They were meant to be together. The fate and stars had told them once what their hearts already knew and their bodies felt. It was simply a matter of time before they found their way back to each other.

Yet the first time she saw the two of them together, she realized maybe the stars had been wrong or worse, her mistakes had changed their storyline for good. She had seen how foretelling and prophecies could be misleading or put to the ground. She had played with time before and saw how even small actions could change things drastically. Perhaps even the stars underestimated her apathy and cowardice.

Fleur's behavior as if she was only a stranger whom she had met in passing years before and was now merely a friend of her boyfriend's family was only betrayed by that undeniable feeling that latched to her body and filled her in whenever the blonde was nearby. How hard it was to reconcile those two presences whenever in the same room. After a while, with no one to talk to, she found herself questioning her own sanity and going down an endless spiral she had never thought possible.

Through dull Slughorn lessons and unremarkable quidditch matches, Hermione found all the more constant need to numb herself and concluded she had finally hit rock bottom.

Until she heard the words, "I'm sorry, Hermione, but you're too..."

"Is everything alright here?" Bill Weasley's deep voice resonated between the women and stopped Fleur mid words, but it was clear to Hermione what she was about to say.

He had his hand in her fiancee's back and a concerned look in no time.

"Everything is fine, my love" Hermione didn't bother trying to hide the recoil that the veela's words caused. Luckily, Bill seemed to be focused on Fleur and was oblivious to her reaction.

"Fantastic then. We all better head back inside before my starved siblings leave us with no lunch"

He was a handsome and charming man, and Hermione really wished she could hate him. After all, he had done nothing wrong. She had.

Hermione couldn't have stormed out faster, ignoring the redhead's befuddled calling. She needed to get away. From the blonde, from this wedding, from this constant reminder that everything was falling apart in her life. She had no place, no family, no love and could she say she had any friends when in this moment she had no one to turn to?

She marched through the pathway back to the tall, cluttered house paying no attention to her surroundings and ignoring whoever she passed by. She was fixated in one thing and one thing only, leaving. Her bag had been set for days, ever since the trio had decided to look for the Horcruxes themselves. She knew the whole wedding preparation had been the redhead's mother's way of keeping them around, her motherly sixth sense snitching on their plans to get in trouble once more. She wasn't abandoning them, if anything she thought that way she could get a head start on their searches while the other two found ways to escape themselves. A letter with a meeting place and clear instructions would do.

What Hermione didn't count on was Mrs. Weasley passing on her sixth sense to her youngest child, who sat on top of the bed facing the door with Hermione's bag right next to her.

"Hey Mione, you seem in an awful hurry" The redhead drawled out suspiciously.

"Ginny, Hey" Hermione tried to act naturally "I was just about to…"

"Flee the scene." She stated.

"Oh and don't try to deny it. I'm not as stupid as the surname suggests"

"I can't stay" Her admission came out in a whisper, but it was still forceful.

"Can't leave either. Everyone is looking for you and the other two idiots. We're under a dozen protection spells and around some of the most powerful wizards and witches in history and everyone is still jumping to their wands at every abrupt noise. You wouldn't last till morning by yourself out there, Mione"

Ginny put up a strong front, but at the end of it, she was just concerned for her friend. She could tell things were good with the brunette, but she wasn't about to let her risk her life.

"And I won't last until morning in here either."

"I'm sorry, Ginny" Hermione extended her wand and with a silent spell the bag came flying into her hands sooner than Ginny could make a grab for it.

She felt sorry for how it was turning out and knew of the risks she was putting herself into, but at that point she didn't care much. "I'll be back, just not tonight"

However, before she could turn and depart from that place, another voice cut through the room.

The accent was the same, if only a bit heavier, but the rich voice behind her was unmistakable, if only for its' effortless strength and distinguishable nature.

"Oh you are not going anywhere, Mademoiselle Granger"

Apolline Delacour


	4. Chapter 3

A.N: Thank you guys for all the follows and reviews! I apologize in advance for any mistake I might have overlooked. If something doesn't sound right, sorry, it's probably my non-english-speaking roots showing.

Hope you guys have as much fun reading as I did writing it :)

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The air quickly became thick in the girls' room at the Burrow and one Ginny Weasley knew better than to stay for the outcome of whatever was to happen. She had only known the Delacour matriarch a couple of days, but from the way the brunette witch got tense at hearing the woman's voice, that wasn't the case for Hermione. If she hadn't been able to convince Hermione to stay, perhaps Madame Delacour would have a better chance. So with a short nod in acknowledgment to the older veela, Ginny was gone from the room.

The poised veela walked fully inside the room and the door was closed with a wandless spell. Hermione was afraid to turn and face the woman because she knew what would happen if she did so, but she didn't count on the woman moving swiftly in front of her and into her personal space.

"Did you hear me, child?"

When she finally looked up, she saw not the disappointment she had expected, but a deep kindness and concern reflected back to her eyes. That was the tipping point to her resistance and self control. She broke down sobbing and the older woman seemed nothing if not prepared as she held the falling body of the frail young witch.

"I can't do this, Apolline" Hermione weeped.

"Yes, you can, ma petite loutre. However troubled you might feel right now, it shall pass. We are far more resilient than we give ourselves credit for, and you my dear is one of the most resilient witches I've had the pleasure of meeting." voiced Apolline affectionately. She had seen many go through what the brunette was feeling and it was never once pretty or pleasant.

"It feels as though the cruciatus curse is cast whenever I see her smiling at him. How can I watch her accept him as her husband? How can I sit quietly and watch them bond each other for life?"

A somber look crossed the older Delacour "You do not know the pain of such curse, child. If you did, you would not say those words. Torture, causing others pain for one's pleasure, is the vilest of things"

"I have watched you and Fleur hurt each other, but I have yet to see either take pleasure from such actions." asserted Apolline.

"She hates me, Apolline. I tried to...but she hates me" said Hermione.

"She does not, but would you blame her if she did?" Madame Delacour questioned and Hermione conceded.

"No, I wouldn't"

"She could never hate someone she loved so deeply, ma petite loutre. I loathe to admit that my oldest, broody child has never shone as bright as those winter days you first spent in our home. She is simply a stubborn woman. I blame her father, of course."

Hermione chuckled through her tears as they both knew whom Fleur and Gabrielle had taken to.

"As were you once a stubborn woman. She once gave you space and respect to take responsibility for your own bad decisions, now has come the time for you to give her that courtesy." conveyed the veela. "Don't leave my daughter's side, Hermione. She needs you more today than any other day"

Apolline continued to hold her as she cried the last of her tears, aware that she could no longer go ahead with her plans to flee the ceremony.

When she first met the veela matriarch she had been so scared that she nearly jumped for the portkey back to Hogsmeade from where she had traveled with her then girlfriend. There was no doubt that Monsieur Delacour was by far the most welcoming Delacour at first. Madame Delacour watched for afar most of the days that she first spent at the Delacour mansion. It wasn't during the good times that Hermione developed the close relationship she now possessed with the impressive creature that was Apolline Delacour. No, the woman only reached out to her when she was spinning downwards, oppressed by the feeling of being apart from her loved one. It was as though she could feel Hermione's despair and came to her rescue with kind, motherly eyes and a shoulder for her to try on.

Apolline had always been so protective of her children, as all veelas are, that Hermione had expected her to enact revenge on her for hurting her daughter, but Apolline only offered her comfort. It took a long time for Hermione to understand that perhaps the reason Apolline did not hurt her was because she somehow considered her like a daughter. "It's in our nature" She had once said, "My child's...love, is also my child" And Hermione never questioned her motives again. It was possible she had been hasty in accusing the universe of leaving her no one to turn to.

"You are not alone, ma petite loutre" As if she could hear the brunette's thoughts, Apolline reassured her. She looked outside the window wittingly and smirked as if she possessed a knowledge of her own "And be a little more lively, I have a ...feeling this will be a very long day for you to be this depressing so early"

"Now, you will wash your face and shower off this awful stink." She took a step back and magicked an expensive feeling towel and richly scented bath supplies onto Hermione's arms. "We need to discuss better alcohol choices for you in the future, young lady. If you are going to foolish waste yourself away, at least do like my daughter and steal from a decent stash like mine"

She was out of the room before Hermione could react on being called out. Apolline did always have a curious humor to her.

Hermione wouldn't put it above the Delacour woman to have enchanted the bathing lotions because that shower felt infinitely better than her first mere hours before, or maybe it was that feeling of not being alone that soothed some of her pain.

it was time to get ready and face the music. She had skipped lunch and there was no more time left to postpone. When she got back to the room, Ginny sat by the window, ready for the ceremony.

The silence in the room is never broken as Ginny helps her with her hair and make-up. No one discussed that Ginny had 'borrowed' her mothers' Atacama-dry-eyes powder and cream they had often joked was the most expensive and useful item in the Burrow for Mrs. Weasley's flair for the dramatics and tear ducts were legendary.

They walk to the tent hand in hand. The gathering already in full motion as aurors guarded the tent for the arriving guests with Ron, Harry, looking chubby and redhead as cousin Barry, and the twins going around with Mrs. Weasley's and Apolline's detailed charting plans and some help from Gabrielle, although not many people from Fleur's family had shown up so far. Hermione found it odd as she had met at least three times more relatives for the blond veela's during her christmas stay, but she reasoned being in the same place as a number of well known Order members might be an unnecessary risk for many.

Hermione couldn't dwell for long on that thought as she walked fully inside the tent and, at the end of the long purple carpet covering the aisle, she saw Bill Weasley standing by the altar.

She froze on the spot and all the music, laughter, chatting and even Mrs. Weasley's shouting were turned on mute.

It was really happening.

She confessed he looked very handsome in his deep burgundy colored dress robes that matched his younger brother. His scars, which in some might look unattractive, only gave him character. At least she knew Fleur thought as much as she made a point of saying so before they brought Harry to the Burrow.

It was approaching 3 o'clock in the afternoon and it was really happening. The words kept repeating over her head so as to remind herself that this was not another of her nightmares.

As for Bill Weasley, he displayed serenity and composure as he chatted with his brother Charlie, who stood by his side as best man. He felt her stare immediately, like a laser pointing straight at him, but he chose not to return the look in fear of what they both might see in each others eyes.

"Come on, Mione. You got to get to your seat before mum shoots ya a forbidden curse for being in people's way and me for not being in my spot for the entry or whatever are the plans now" That was how Ginny left hermione standing in the middle of the tent and disappeared. Thankfully Ron and Harry had already seated their guests and Ron was waving maniacally for her to come and save him from his Great-Aunt Muriel.

His Great-aunt's tongue was on fire that afternoon, even Hermione had been at the end of her ramblings already that day with some mumblings of "Bad posture skinny ankles".The Weasley matriarch should have thought better than to have put her so far into the tent for she progressed through the aisle offending every single guests in reach. Most guests were quite familiar with the old woman's temper, but Fleur's cousins seemed far from amused. It was a godsend for Hermione as it kept them from their usual glaring at her. Apolline treated her with nothing but kindness, but that couldn't be said for the rest of the Delacour clan.

The twins shared hilarious stories on their late uncle Bilius eccentric behaviour and the group's laughter and lightheartedness helped distract Hermione from what was about to take place. It helped that the twins were also responsible for the much needed spike of the fruity punch their mother had prepared. Usually, she would have chastised the boys, but she didn't feel like being hypocritical on top of a killjoy.

She paid half consideration to cousin 'Barry's conversation with a enraged looking Victor Krum. He looked positively murderous as he stared daggers at Xenophilius and ranted to 'Barry' in the most erratic english.

Except for odd the newspaper and Ron's comments on the latest Quidditch news, she hadn't heard from Krum since her fourth year. Despite Krum's indomitable reputation, Hermione knew she had hurt his feelings by leading him on and essentially using him as a means to keep appearances. Before he left with the rest of Durmstrang, she sought him out and apologized for her actions, because even though he was the one who asked and pursued her, she should have refused. Still he seemed understanding, almost empathetic as they had said their goodbyes.

Before she knew, the guests had all seated and conversations were reduced to occasional whispers.

It was time. A collective sigh issued as all women turned to the entrance.

The music began and not even whispers were heard. Not by Hermione, for she was transfixed.

She could not recall seeing Ginny or little Gabi pass by her. All she'd remember were those dark blue eyes and the simple white dress made her look all the more like an angel, a comparison the blonde always struggled to comprehend with her limited understanding of the muggle culture, but it resonated with Hermione all the same. She looked radiant, her beauty eclipsing even Muriel's famous tiara.

All at once in her mind, she watched a younger and more carefree version of the blonde crossing the Hogwarts' Great Hall. Just like that day, Hermione watched her move without blinking. That familiar warm feeling clawing its way under her skin and drowning her in the blond's scent. It reeled her mind and evoked deep feelings that had her thankful for Molly Weasley's magical makeup.

Soon, the veela reached the small altar and Monsieur Delacour handed her to the glowing groom.

"Ladies and gentleman" The small tufty-haired wizard presiding over the wedding went on with his speech, over the loud sobs of two thirds of the women in the tent and Hagrid. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls…"

Hermione recalled that amongst the weeping she heard a snicker, but thought better than to look for whichever Delacour relative was responsible.

As Bill began his vows a reassuring hand came from her side and held her trembling ones. Harry sat by her side watching not the wedding, but her with a look of tardy understanding.

Hermione wasn't listening and apparently neither was Fleur. She had promised herself not to look back at the seats after marching down the aisle, but was betrayed by her own nature. Like always, her body knew exactly where the brunette witch was sitting and like the treacherous thing it was, it couldn't resist one last look. One last exchange.

They held each other's eyes all through the redhead's loving vows.

His words didn't matter anymore, because Hermione recognized the silent words conveyed through her loved one's eyes.

It may be the case that the Weasley family may never forgive her for what she knew she was about to do, but her body lifted itself without consequence.

For Hermione, it all happened in slow motion. She felt Harry's hand slowly falling from her lap and heard his stunned gasp. She saw Ginny's knowing look and Gabi's immediate smile.

However what remained on her mind as all the madness of people shouting, running and spells flying abound went on was that Fleur Delacour had looked relieved.

For the voice that had cut through the tent and stopped the wedding was not Hermione Granger's.

It was something large and silver that had come falling through the canopy over the altar. The graceful and gleaming lynx had landed right in front of the marrying couple. The Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming"


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm sorry it took so long guys, work has got in the way, but I guarantee i'm not abandonning this one.** **As usual, i'm sorry for any mistakes (hopefully not too many).** **Thank you all for the favourites and reviews and I hope you all enjoy this one. A fair warning it's quite Hermione centric this one, but I promise there will be a lot more Fleurmione interactions in the near future :)**

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Her knuckles bled. It dripped on the wooden floor, to Kreacher's disdain later on no doubt, and it smeared the old tapestry on the wall. Both hands suffered through her anger along with the faultless surface.

Ron tried to rest down the hall while Harry lounged in the kitchen as they waited for the spiteful house elf to return. It could be hours or days before he returned, but she couldn't rest no matter how hard she tried or how exhausted she felt.

Her eyes plagued Hermione's mind. Their connection in those last few moments, amongst chaos and disarray, it was Hermione's lifeline.

 _"_ _They are coming", Shacklebolt's voice echoed in the dead silence of the tent._

 _Already on her feet, Hermione had been the first to react and pull out her wand. She threw herself into the now panicking crowd. She tried to run towards the altar with Harry right behind her, but it got progressively harder to move forward as people all cluttered in the aisle trying to find their friends and family. Many started disapparating as the protective enchantments were broken and she could see through the corner of her eyes the masked figures that kept appearing. In no time spells began to fly over their heads with members of the order attempting to fight back the death eaters._

 _"_ _Where is Ron?" Harry asked as he looked around frantically looking for their redheaded friend. "I can't see him. Ron! Ron!"_

 _Harry called into the crowd trying to find their friend at the same time he rushed behind Hermione trying not to lose her. The brunette witch only had eyes for one thing, the valiant veela at the altar who was trying to fight off a death eater without her wand. Hermione's blood ran cold as she watched the struggle incapable of moving forward in time._

 _"_ _Mione, we need to go now!" Harry grabbed her arm and held her still. Ron was already by their side and both boys looked at her expectantly. In that moment she felt a deep regret for her piece in the war as she could see in their eyes how badly they relied on her to get them out of that pandemonium._

 _One last look at the altar, and through the moving crowd, blue eyes connected with brown a last time before darkness overcame them. Hermione felt her body being pulled and squeezed as they moved through space leaving the frenzied invasion behind._

 _"_ _Tottenham Court Road" She never stopped moving even as Ron asked where they were. "Walk, just walk, we need to find somewhere to change"_

 _The boys' dress robes were bound to attract attention, they needed to hide and change before dealing with their current situation. She walked without paying mind to Harry and Ron's mumblings. She needed to be practical, it was the only way she could cope right then._

 _She soon found a dark enough alley by a side street where they could change. once again, Hermione's small beaded bag came in handy and saved the day. She handed them their clothes and hurried Harry into the invisibility cloak. The Ministry had fallen and Harry Potter was now the most wanted man in Britain, they had to be careful._

 _Harry was still coming to terms with what really happened at the wedding "The others - everyone at the wedding -"_

 _"_ _We can't worry about that now" said Hermione. The way her eyes moved sideways and blood rushed away from her knuckles as she held tightly her wand was missed by both young wizards._

Her forehead touched the wall's surface as she tried to reign in her sobs. The trio had yet to hear from their friends and the people at the wedding, but she allowed herself be selfish for once for she knew that the one people she had truly worried for ever since apparating in the centre of London was alive and well.

The adrenaline of their lasts hours finally started to wear off as she let out her frustration on the feeble wall that held the tapestry decorated by the faces of the Black family. At last, when her survival instincts and escaping devising thoughts seeped off through her hands and tears, a familiar soothing feeling tentatively reached her.

Fleur had survived.

No matter whatever else happened, what mattered to her was that Fleur had survived and worried about Hermione.

The bright witch had made herself numb for the hours that followed their escape through London, their ultimate decision for 12 Grimmauld place as their hideout and the startling discovery of the location of Salazar Slytherin's true locket.

Regulus' name on the tapestry mocked her. She had had the artefact in her hands and let it slip away. They had all passed around trying to open it, paying no mind to the powerful magic it surely emanated, and threw it out as rubbish. It was true that back then they had been ignorant to Voldemort's corrupt objects and the extent one could go for power, but still guilt surged through her.

While Kreacher was out there looking for Mundungus Fletcher, the poor excuse of a wizard who dared to sack a dead man's house in the middle of a war, she had the time to digest all the new information they had uncovered.

Sirius's brother was R.A.B, Bathilda Bagshot's closeness to Dumbledore's family and Kreacher's painful participation in the concealing of the horcrux. There was a glimmer of satisfaction in Hermione's mind on Voldemort being betrayed by his bigoted views. Perhaps had he not chosen a house elf, one capable of magic Voldemort himself could not, no one would have known of the locket's hiding place.

Kreacher was vicious. She could not deny that, between Mrs. Black's constant obscenities and his dealings with Bellatrix and Narcisa, it was hard to take it all lightly. Yet listening to his tale, of how he had suffered, nearly died and still couldn't only be concerned for his master, she understood him.

Kreacher loved Regulus. To witness a loved one's death, to perhaps feel responsible for such, was not an easy burden bear.

Of course he obeyed Sirius and the rest of the Black family's orders, but he truly loved Regulus and most of all, he was loyal to the one he loved.

Could she say the same? Hermione asked herself.

She knew the answer to that one.

A series of noises erupted from downstairs and broke her away from her musings. Hermione rushed down with her wand in hand. She walked in just in time to hear Dobby's strangely calm words for one currently attached to Mundungus Fletcher's leg.

The obnoxious little man groaned as fell to the ground with Kreacher and Dobby holding tight to him.

He barely got up and tried to pull out his wand, but Hermione was faster " _Expelliarmus"_

Hermione easily caught Mundungus' wand as it soared into the air.

"As requested, Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master" said Kreacher.

"Watcha problem, setting a pair of bleedin' elves on me?" said Mundungus trying to distance himself from the two menacing looking wizards.

"Dobby was only trying to help" said Dobby. "Dobby saw Kreacher in Diagon Alley which Dobby thought was curious. And then, Dobby heard Kreacher mention Harry Potter's name. And then, Dobby saw Kreacher talking with the thief…"

"I'm no thief" interrupted Mundungus. "You foul little…git"

Harry and Hermione were far from amused. Daylight was nearly coming up and their patience was running very thin.

"I'm a seller of rare and wondrous objects" said Mundungus.

"All of them legally obtained, I assume?" questioned Harry sarcastically. They slowly cornered the frightened thief, both wands pointing straight at his face.

"Listen, I panicked that night, okay? Can I help it if Mad-eye fell from his broom?"

Mundungus Fletcher was clearly not helping his case. "Tell the truth" commanded Hermione.

"When you turned this place over. Don't deny it!" Harry challenged him "You found a locket, am I right?"

Count it on Mundungus to focus on what was important and further anger Kreacher, "Why? Was it valuable"

"You've still got it?!" asked the witch.

"I wish! Bleedin' gave it away, I did. There I was not long ago, selling my wares in Diagon Alley, when some ministry lady comes up askin' to see my license" He grumbled "Said she had mind to lock me up and would have done too if she hadn't fancied that locket"

"Who was this woman? The witch, do you know her?" asked Harry.

A heavy feeling settled on Hermione's stomach as something told her she knew exactly who had done such thing. Luck hardly ever was in their favour anyway.

"No…"

Before Hermione could have some hope of not being the woman she suspected, Mundungus pointed brow wrinkled and he described, "Ah Little woman. Bow on top og 'er head"

There could be no other option. Of course the locket had to be with Dolores Umbridge.

Harry's face fell and he turned quiet even as Dobby and Kreacher dragged Mundungus away from the kitchen and down some door Harry had never seen before, "To make sure the thief doesn't touch anything else with his filthy hands" he had said; but Harry paid no mind to it.

Mundungus revelation felt like cold water was poured over their plans, whatever those were.

How were they supposed to take the locket from bloody Umbridge?

"Will we ever catch a break?" cried Harry. The young wizard watched his mug burst as it hit the far wall. He was progressively more frustrated and needed an outlet or he'd soon lose it.

"I doubt it" sighed Hermione. "But have an idea"

That was fast, Harry thought. "What is it? Because I'm all for risky mad plans that usually don't work at all like we planned, but even I can tell invading the ministry now, to snatch something straight from the neck of our dear old professor, sounds a lot like suicide" fretted Harry rubbing the ominous scar in his hand.

She ignored him as she rummaged through the magically charmed bag, "Where is Ron?" she asked.

"I think he is still asleep. He wanted to be alone a bit." They had yet to hear back from the Burrow and Ron wasn't dealing well with the radio silence.

She was relieved Ron wasn't around though. Two people were enough for what they were about to do and at least they had done this before. "Good. The fake locket is still with you, right?"

He nodded confused. "I was planning on giving it to Kreacher, honestly."

"Oh that's lovely, Harry" her voice softened, "But you cannot do that now. Perhaps you can do this later on, but we'll need the locket now."

"You see; all we've got to do is get Mundungus to hand over to Umbridge the fake locket." She went on mumbling. She hummed in approval as her hand appeared to have hit the object she wished for.

What she took from the bag was the one thing he didn't expect to see ever again.

"But McGonagall took it back" Harry stammered.

"She took it back" Hermione confirmed, but there was something more to it. It looked different somehow, bigger perhaps and a different shade from the one they used to help Sirius. "However, she had no control over the ones in the Department of Mysteries"

The wizard's shock was visible, he had seen those time-turners fall to the ground and smash over and over again back in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione seemed to get his trouble understanding.

"I had most of them with me before Neville could dream of smashing them into a loop." She explained. "I couldn't help it, Harry. Can you imagine how helpful they can be in this war?"

It wasn't a lie. Yet it most certainly was not the whole truth.

"Playing with time is dangerous, Mione. Dumbledore said it, you said it."

Hermione knew it wouldn't be simple convincing Harry. Thankfully Ron wasn't around or else it would be near impossible for them to go through with it. "You see, Harry, time-turners were in the department of mysteries for a reason, nobody knew how they worked, how to create or why there was such a short time limit. I mean they could barely go over a handful of hours safely"

She articulated and Harry looked more suspicious by the second until full blown understanding showed on his face, "You said 'knew'"

She smiled faintly, proud of her accomplishment even if her original goals were never attained.

"I've spent every spare second for the last two years or so working on a way to understand and improve them. With the ones from the Department of Mysteries I was able to make important breakthroughs." She put the rare artefact on his hand.

"Some of them were destroyed, but this one...Trust me, Harry. It will work" she assured Harry "I can't get us back to the time before he took the locket from here…it can only go back so far, but I can take us to a time before that devil of a woman took it"

She placed the chain around her neck already organizing things for them to leave, but Harry stopped her.

"Why?" He asked.

A hundred questions invaded his mind. Things weren't making sense and no matter how hard he tried to put the pieces together it felt like he was missing important things. She was his best friend, how had he missed all of that. They spent so much time together, he couldn't possibly have missed all of this, unless Hermione had put colossal efforts into hiding her efforts and motives.

"Why what?" the brunette witch dissimulated, but Harry knew better now.

"Why did you go through all this trouble -"

"I told you, the war - "She tried to stop his questioning, but Harry wasn't letting go this time.

"Don't lie to me, Hermione. I have been blind, but I'm sure not dumb" snarled Harry. His befuddlement was easily turning into impatience. He knew Hermione only ever hid things from anyone when they were personal.

"Fine, Harry. I won't lie, but we don't have time for this now. After we settle all this and destroy the horcrux, we'll – "

"No! If what you're saying about the time-turner is true, we have plenty of time right now"

Harry took deep breaths and looked his friend in the eyes. She looked slightly scared and guilty, but most of all she looked sad.

"Nearly two years you said. It was when Voldemort came back. …What could it be that you wish to change so badly during…the triwizard tournament" She diverted her gaze down and something he hadn't seen before caught his attention. His friend's fists were purple and bloody in that way it gets when you've recently taken a wall as a punching bag. That's when it dawned on him the link he had missed all along and suddenly the entire day's, maybe month's really, events finally made sense. "No, it can't be…Fleur?"

"Harry-"

"It's her isn't it? It's Fleur. It has always been Fleur"

Hermione's eyes found the floor in an instant. She couldn't…no she wouldn't deny it. It was not the right moment to finally be honest, but the blonde deserved better than to be her dirty secret, again.

"Indeed, it has always been Fleur" admitted Hermione.

"It doesn't matter anymore though. I was too late"

Nothing Harry had ever heard before had sounded quite as resigned as Hermione's quiet declaration.

"You loved her?" asked Harry, however unnecessary the question was.

"Yes" she hated how relieved she felt to finally confess that to her best friend. Why had it taken so long and these damned circumstances, she wondered.

"But I told her I didn't…and she believed me"

A lone tear escaped Hermione's eye as she breathed in. No passage of time could help her reconcile with her own actions. Surely it wasn't going to happen then in 12 Grimmauld Place's mouldy kitchen in between pursuits and conflicts.

Harry Potter was overwhelmed. He wished to hug and comfort her, yet something in the way her eyes hardened and her grip on the wand tightened kept him from doing so.

"This isn't the time or place, Harry. We must go" she faintly instructed and he acquiesced for now.

Harry told her, "Mundungus Fletcher was in the Diagon Alley when Umbridge found him, but we can't be there in plain view and we have no time to make polyjuice potions. I'm officially Undesirable No 1 now, so I'd say the chances of us being hunted and killed while at it are quite relevant"

"He wasn't there all day though. Yesterday morning, I heard the order talking about 'the sodding coward thief'. I wasn't paying attention, but I believe someone was tracking him. We can start from there"

Harry nodded and slowly approached her and she smoothly put the long chain around his neck as well, "So we are really doing this?"

"We have to, Harry. Unless you want to sit here and come up with a plan to safely invade the recently occupied Ministry of Magic and steal the cursed locket from the toad's neck."

He nodded again, more assuredly this time, holding on to his wand and Hermione's enchanted handbag.

"Some 30 turns and we will have a horcrux. That's all that matters"

And with a last flick, the hourglass rapidly turned, and both wizards hoped it would them to a time when they could fix the mess they were in.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here is another one guys. Again i'm sorry for any mistakes or confusion. Hope you enjoy it and i'm looking forward to learning what you think :D**

 **Chapter 5**

The first thing Hermione realized when everything finally stopped moving was that she was no longer in 12 Grimmauld place. She was back in the Burrow in the exact same place she had been in that fateful morning. To her luck, her past self and Ginny were still asleep.

That's when she noticed Harry was not with her. Before she could panic on something going wrong with her time-turner and going into full blown "I've killed Harry Potter" mode, the bedroom's door was opened.

"Oh thank goodness, you're alive. I was so lucky, dropped here just as I'd left for the loo." Harry lifted the cloak just enough for Hermione to get closer and hide from everyone's view. "We need to move"

"Have you been downstairs yet?" asked Hermione.

"No, but I heard Tonks voice in the kitchen. I think some of them are still having breakfast."

"That's great, we need to get inside before they…" Hermione stopped speaking realizing an immediate problem with their plan.

Fleur would be downstairs with the order. That meant their odds of being inside the room without being discovered was close to none.

"Actually, Harry, you're going to have to go inside by yourself"

"What?!" Harry whispered loudly and Hermione shushed him and held his mouth closed with her hand.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I can't be in there with you. I'll explain later…" Harry's eyes immediately hardened and he glared at her "Fine, it's her. She will be in the room with the order and, I can't explain how or why, but she does this thing that she always knows where I am, even with the cloak"

He looked at her questioningly and she slowly took back her hand.

"I might have borrowed it from you more often than you were aware" Hermione blushed.

"Fine. How do we do this then?" he asked. There would have to be a lot of talking between them after this was all over.

"We can go outside, I'll hide and wait amidst the plants away from the house. We can't leave the barriers until the last moment though, or they'll be warned" Hermione devised. "I saw Mrs. Weasley cast new spells a couple days ago...I think she was afraid we'd run away after Voldemort"

Harry agreed and they moved down the stairs, careful not to make noises and alert Tonks and George who were still eating and chatting. They navigated past kitchen and made safely outside, thanking Merlin that the door had been open or it would have been tricky.

They walked a bit until Hermione stopped them and said "I think here is enough. I'll wait for you"

"Ok" He nodded nervously.

"And Harry…"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't mess up" she pleaded jokingly. It was enough for him to smile before hiding behind the cloak and going back towards the Weasley house.

Hermione hoped she wouldn't have to wait for too long.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione conjectured her best chance at Fleur not picking up her presence would be by staying close to herself. So she led Harry to a place close to the Weasley shed yet far enough from the house. Because of that, after a decent amount of time, she had not been taken aback to see her past self running into the flimsy shed

She was running enough risk without Harry's cloak and, being within a great number of area protection spells by the Order and Weasley family, she could not cast any cloaking spell without warning them of her double presence.

Mrs. Weasley's shouts were clear even from a distance. She got the boys around carrying things and organizing chairs and tables for the reception. Hermione didn't recall there being that much noise, but again she had been rather occupied with her alcohol indulgence. Over an hour went by without hearing from her friend and she was getting restless. Harry was supposed to have returned by then.

Hermione heard Madame Delacour call for Mrs. Weasley and the lot to get inside for their lunch break and the boys were all inside before their mother could complain.

How would Harry sneak out with all of them in the kitchen, worried Hermione.

Nevertheless her concern for Harry was easily forgotten by the sight of one Fleur Delacour walking out of the house.

As elegant and alluring as ever, the blonde's presence captured Hermione's full attention. The brunette could not miss the rare opportunity to observe the blonde unabashedly.

Finally looking at the veela without the cloud of her bad new habits and without the fear that someone was watching, she noticed that even though the blonde looked fine, there was something in the way she walked that raised a red flag in Hermione's mind.

All those days in the same house and how could she have missed this change? Hermione thought. Yet the answer was an easy one, she had been either inebriated or avoiding the blonde completely.

The sound of the shed's door being roughly opened shook Hermione.

"Oh no" Hermione groaned.

At the blonde's first order for her past self to stop, she holds her breath. She could step back, leave and not watch her own pitiful confession once more, but her feet wouldn't move. And it only became worse when she felt movement from behind her and she realized Harry was back.

Hermione had tears in her eyes even before she saw herself trip and fall into Fleur's arms.

She expected what was coming next, but Harry did not and his unconstrained gasp betrayed his surprise. It felt like forever since she had asked the veela not to marry Bill Weasley. Yet here she was relieving it all.

Hermione knew that was enough for her. They needed to leave and she was about to do so, when a movement out of the corner of her eyes created a chill up her spine.

"What did you do?" She whispered harshly to Harry. "This is not right!"

Bill Weasley had just opened the back door of the house and was walking straight down the path that led to the tent where hermione's past self and Fleur were in mid argument.

"He can't be here" breathed Hermione amidst panic. "Not yet. This is too soon, if he comes now i won't have"

Fleur had just told her she loved Bill and asked her to leave.

Hermione was selfish, but she didn't trust herself to have to go through this twice. At least this way, Fleur would know. She couldn't let Bill take that from her.

Hermione moved, wand already in hand ready to make her move, she would freeze him if she had to but Harry held her by the waist before she could move closer. His cloak was by the floor and they would have been exposed had Someone been paying attention their way. "It's too risky, Mione. I'm sorry"

It was not needed, however, because Bill stopped just within earshot but out of the women's sight and stood listening to their altercation. As the conversation between the two women went on, Bill remained out of sight, his face as stoic as ever as he listened to his little brother's best friend ask his fiancee to cancel their wedding.

"Oh Merlin...He heard it. He heard it all" choked Hermione.

Bill stood still even as they all listened to Hermione's desperate love confession.

No, Bill Weasley's only reaction came when he first heard his fiancee's voice crack, but she continued speaking so he waited. Nonetheless, his face showed a deep concern.

They all waited through the long silence that followed Hermione's reveal that she was no longer scared.

Harry's hold on Hermione had long turned into a comforting hug. She had stopped crying, waiting soberly for the rejection she knew was close.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but you're too..." said Fleur.

So did Bill for as Fleur opened her mouth and started to speak he walked hastily and pointedly interrupted her, "Is everything alright here?"

The redhead was by Fleur's side in a second, covertly holding her up. The veela looked exhausted even as she tried her best to hold her composure in front of the very distraught and inebriated young witch.

"Everything is fine, my love" replied Fleur.

Hermione and Harry observed attentively and saw the way Bill didn't seem particularly happy at the woman's words. Something was up that clearly Hermione had failed to notice before and a dark suspicious feeling started to set in her stomach.

"Fantastic then. We all better head back inside before my starved siblings leave us with no lunch" said Bill. He tried to break the tension and get them back inside, but Hermione took off before he could even finish talking.

"Hermione!" shouted Bill.

Hermione and Harry couldn't believe it, but it was clear from their hiding place that Bill looked discontented to watch her leave.

"Mione, we need to leave" whispered Harry. The brunette witch just shook her head, she ignored the feeling that she shouldn't be intruding, but she had to find out what in merlin's name was going on.

"Let her go" Fleur said coldly. "It's better this way"

Bill sighed sadly, "Why do you have to be so pigheaded?"

Fleur loathed the way Bill's disappointed look stung. It made her feel worse than when her mother did the same, perhaps because the older Delacour's disappointed look had been the standard for years.

She exhaled tiredly and spoke with a tinge of regret, "It's a gift"

"Here, I brought you this" He took a small vial from his pocket and handed it over to the blonde.

Hermione squinted her eyes trying to get a better look, but the container was too small. Although she could tell surely that she had never seen or heard of a potion of that particular hue.

Hermione watched as the veela drank the deep cerulean liquid from the vial making a disgusted face, "This is vile"

Bill rolled his eyes."It is a potion, not a juice and you can't be skipping them, Delacour." advised him.

"It's going to be Weasley soon" Fleur gave a humourless laugh and the redheaded man groaned.

"Your mother will kill us both if you take my name" grumbled the eldest Weasley offspring which brought out a rare smile from Fleur.

They both stayed quiet for a moment as the potion seemed to settle in the blond and she started to look more lively.

In contrast Bill only looked mournful "Are you sure you want to get through with this?"

"Trying to get rid me already?" joked Fleur.

"If it means you get to live, then yes" retorted Bill sadly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _It was a full crowd out for the third and final task of the Triwizard tournament. A palpable tension connected every member of the stand who focused all their attention towards the intrinsic maze. because of that, most of them did not notice the young brunette which clawing her way through the Gryffindor crowd and down the stands towards the professors._

 _Brown eyes reddening from tears and a quiet desperation. Her skin was itching and she felt like her breath was coming with more difficulty each turn._

 _She needed to find Dumbledore, something wasn't right. Something wasn't right with Fleur._

" _Professor!" shouted Hermione just in time with the fiery spell that erupted from the maze towards the sky signalling the request for rescue._

 _Dumbledore spared her barely a look. His attention was concentrated on coordinating Madame Pomfrey and the medical squad and the team that was already on their way back from the maze._

 _The old man could feel something more sinister creeping up and had a feeling that night was bound for an unpleasant outcome._

 _McGonagall was first out of the maze ahead of another two professors one of whom tried to carefully, but urgently, carry the small body of the Beauxbatons champion towards the medical staff. Madame Maxime had already arranged for the french's little sister to be taken away before the woman's brought out for they did not know yet the extent of her injuries._

 _The crowds surprise reaction was loud and continuous as people tried to understand who was being carried and what had happened. Yet it did not stop Dumbledore from hearing Hermione's pleas. She had left the stands and was already crossing the lawn towards him, mindless of the fact that she had already taken out of her way two ministry officials who were responsible for controlling the situation._

 _Hermione tried to get inside the tent, but there was no going around McGonagall, who stood by the entrance after the blond was taken inside._

" _Miss Granger, I will not repeat myself. Miss Delacour is being taken cared of and no one but mediwizards are allowed inside." said McGonagall annoyed._

 _Someone called the female professor from inside the tent. "If you are not back in those stands by the time I walk back out, your punishment will be far worse than the great amount of point you've already cost your house" said McGonagall, mindful of the two ministry officials passed out on the path the young gryffindor had just crossed._

 _Dumbledore watched the brunette with a slight smile. She stood rooted in front of the door, her knuckles white holding her wand as her usual dutiful self fought down a primeval instinct that he had a feeling it was not even her own._

" _Veelas are as powerful as they are beautiful, Miss Granger" said Dumbledore. His voice was calm not to startle her. "Yet I refrain from envying them. That kind of power, rarely comes for free"_

" _What do you mean, Professor?" questioned Hermione, ever the curious mind._

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _The moonlight illuminated the hospital beds through the large windows as Hermione sneaked inside, mindful not to let Harry's invisibility cloak get stuck in the door. She had been pacing outside the medical ward of the castle for nearly an hour before she watched Madame Pomfrey walk out for the night and leave her patients to rest._

 _She crossed the room as slowly and quietly as she could, passing by Viktor Krum's and Harry's beds, both asleep thanks no doubt to Madame Pomfrey's strong sleeping potions. Harry had been so distraught since coming back from the cemetery and Mad-eye's, no Barty Crouch Jr's office, that Dumbledore thought it would be best to have him spend the night in the medical ward away from the other students._

 _She ignored them both though. The one she sought lied asleep on the far corner bed separated from the boys._

 _Her beautiful face still marred with light scrapes from the maze that swallowed her. They would be healed by morning, Hermione believed. She had seen how fast the veela would recover from bruises time and again._

" _I believe 'ou ar' trespassin', Mademoiselle Granger" The french woman said with a thick accent. Her eyes were still closed, but she had been awake and deeply aware ever since she had felt the younger witch lurking outside._

 _Hermione gasped, "How do you do this?"_

" _I'll always-" Fleur started, but seemed to think better and instead said "It matters not. You should not be 'ere"_

 _The blonde opened her eyes and stared at the seemingly empty space she knew Hermione stood and waited for her to drop the cloak._

" _When we… last time we talked, I asked you something" Hermione begrudgingly revealed herself. She had walked inside sure that the blonde would be asleep, but hoping otherwise. Dumbledore had left her with more questions than answers, what she knew had probably been his goal in the first place, and not good questions._

" _You make numerous questions" stalled Fleur. They hadn't spoken in days, maybe weeks, and Fleur had naively hoped she would be able to leave the british magical school with some semblance of pride still in her._

" _I asked if you'd be able to tell if someone was your...mate" Hermione regretted recalling that dreadful night, but she needed answers. Their last conversation had been emotional, perhaps too emotional, with its' fair share of regrettable moments. The kind both women were too proud to take it back._

" _You said you didn't know" accused Hermione._

 _Fleur sighed. Hadn't the young woman had enough hurting her? Must she relive this rejection once more. She had given the brunette a choice, one most in her situation were not given, and she took it. It was time for the both to move on, or so the young veela had told herself over and over since the fateful night they came apart._

" _You said that one couldn't tell right away, that it wasn't that important…" recalled Hermione. Fleur wanted to laugh at her own stupidity, but what else could she have told the bright witch when all she could see in her eyes how frightened she was at the possibility of the stories being true._

 _Her grandmother had warned her._

 _Veelas would learn from a young age that their fate had been chosen for them at the moment of their first breath. Veelas were free to roam the earth, the skies and sea, but were not free to love, that was the freedom her kind had been denied._

 _She had grown to accept it, like all veelas descendants do._

 _Yet as her grandmother had told, it is easy to accept the lost of a freedom you've never had._

 _Hermione chose her freedom and Fleur would not take that from her._

" _You see Dumbledore he said something earlier, when they were..." Hermione's voice got stuck in her throat remembering the sight of the blonde's unconscious body being carried out of the maze._

" _He said veelas are amongst the most powerful creatures he has ever known, but that he didn't envy them...you." Hermione rambled like she did when she was feeling nervous and was oblivious to the blond's grimace. Fleur blasted the meddling old man._

 _Hermione had been shaking for hours. She had torn down the library, to Madam Pince's outrage, and torn apart every single book on magical creatures, even the ones in the forbidden section, looking for what she could have missed. Nevertheless, she came to the same conclusion as her previous exhaustive searches, there was little to none information on veelas. Specially none that could confirm or, more importantly, deny what her headmaster had told her._

" _He said veelas are...cursed creatures."_

" _That when veelas are born their lives are bound to another's soul. That that is what veelas call their mates"_

 _She looked at Fleur accusingly who in turn kept a well schooled blank face._

 _Hermione was on the verge of a breakdown and the blonde with looked as poised as ever, even with the bruises and on a medical bed._

" _It is the price they must pay for their magic. Dumbledore said…" Hermione's voice trembled. "Sometimes, he said, if the one to whom the veela is bound doesn't accept this bond, the price is too high"_

 _Hermione suspected what Dumbledore had implied with his words, but she had to hear it from her former lover. To see her, a woman Hermione thought unbreakable, being carried unconscious awoke a feeling Hermione had spent weeks trying to suppress._

" _What did he mean, Fleur?" Questioned Hermione._

 _With a deep breath and an even voice the older woman replied, "Veelas are very private being, as you are aware, Mademoiselle. There are plenty of misconceptions around"_

" _So you are telling me he is wrong?" Hermione asked with hope._

 _Hermione's biggest mistake was having her judgement clouded by her need to believe. It kept her from seeing what was right in front of her._

" _I am telling you I fail to see how my culture would be of your concern." The blond snapped. She had had enough, she didn't need to have her condition discussed especially with Hermione Granger of all._

" _You do not love me" stated Fleur as a matter of fact. "So clearly, you are not my mate or whatever you wish to call it"_

 _Hermione's breath that had been ragged got stuck in her throat. She then understood the metaphor 'stabbed in the heart'. Why did it hurt so bad to hear those words, even if deep down she knew they could be wrong? She had been the one responsible for the events that brought them to this point, she was the first to lie, the first to deny what was so obvious to them both. This moment, the contempt directed at her from Fleur's eyes, that was her price to pay._

" _And even if you were, I'd live. So just leave and go back to your friends, surely they need you more than I do."_

Fleur had lied, Hermione realized.


	7. Chapter 6

_Hi guys :) First I wanted to apologize for the long intervals between updates. I'm changing jobs, changing cities for the third time in two months and it has been all around crazy, but I'm not giving up on this one. I know where I want to go with it, so it might take a while (and i might suck a bit along the way) but i'll do my best to try and get there._

 _Thank you to everyone who reviewed (shout out to one YesSir23 for helping get my ass back in the chair!) and I hope you enjoy this one. I'm sorry for any mistakes. It is a bit shorter but I swear next one is already on its way, this one just seemed to find its own closing point. Also I promise some more Fleurmione soon 3_

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 _There was a sound that wouldn't stop ringing in her had a pace of its' own and it kept drilling into her usual calmness. It was the sound of an old owl tapping insistently on her bedroom's large windows. She heard it all the way through several floo stops and what could be an easily frowned upon night flight before apparating towards her final destination. With firm hands, she knocked on a heavy wooden door that dripped of protective charms, finding little humour on the fact that her knocks were rhythmed perfectly with the owl's desperate pleas of attention and cursing the skilled wards that prevented her entrance._

 _She did not wait for long. In fact, she would dare guess that the young distraught man who opened the door had been waiting by it for her arrival._

 _The relief caused by the sight of her was evident in his usually somber face._

" _I didn't know who else to call" he confessed._

 _The woman walked through the doorway without sparing him a look._

 _She had no trouble finding the reason for the haphazardous note she clutched tightly in her hand._

 _Please come urgently. Fleur is sick_

 _What Appoline Delacour encountered was, unfortunately, as terrible as she had expected to find._

 _Her nostrils were filled with the distinct metallic smell of blood._

 _Blood that drenched the bed her daughter laid on._

" _As soon as I found her...I couldn't touch her...I can't find where it's coming from…St. Mungus..."_

 _The young redheaded man spilled words and sentences that Apolline paid no mind to._

" _There is no point in taking her to St. Mungus, Monsieur Weasley"_

 _William Weasley was taken aback by the deep voice of the Delacour matriarch. He had seen her in pictures around his girlfriend's house but had never met her in person in all those months they'd been together._

" _You know who I am?"_

" _I know a great deal more than I would like to" Apolline sighed._

 _Her daughter's body was trembling and sweating. Her eyes were open but she seemed unaware of her surroundings as she whispered in sounds that Bill had thought to be gibberish and a sign of the graveness of her situation. To Apolline, they were prayers in a language she had thought her daughter to have long forgotten._

" _There is no point in taking my daughter to a hospital for despite what you see, she is not sick"_

 _Bill wanted to disagree. More importantly, he wanted to shout at her for standing still and watching instead of helping her daughter. However, something told him her better stay quiet for now._

" _Has she told you what she is?"_

" _A quarter-veela, yes" He answered promptly, dreading where the conversation seemed to be going._

" _It makes little difference, I'm afraid. Full-blooded, half-blooded, a quarter-veela...all it takes is a drop of blood"_

" _It is a curse after all" She walked alongside the bed deep in thought._

" _What else?" She pushed further._

" _Nothing...from her."_

" _Go on"_

" _I've asked around. I tried with books but there was little to no information. Certainly nothing trustworthy"It felt strange, embarrassing even, for him to admit to having researched her kind. "It was a part of her and I wished to know her better so finally I asked people I trusted, people with knowledge of magical creatures."_

 _If he had expected her to react in some way to his admission he was disappointed._

" _And what does what you've learnt from these so called experts, tell you about what you see?"_

 _Bill sighed profoundly. He wasn't sure of the details, the whys and hows, but he knew what exactly he was being asked._

" _I thought...until now, I hadn't considered the possibility that it might not be me. You must believe me, I love your daughter. I love Fleur and...I believe she loves me"_

 _His voice sounded a lot less certain than he had hoped they would. It wasn't for lack of belief but for a sad understanding that dawned upon him._

" _But that is not enough, is it?"_

" _I'm afraid not"_

 _Diligently, Apolline sat down on the bed by her daughter's side and laid open her supply of healing supplies and magical aids._

 _She had been waiting for this day for years._

 _It had come the time for Fleur's body to change into its' true and powerful form. Yet by itself, it would not have the strength to go through it._

 _A silent and wandless spell pulled Fleur's trembling body from the soaked mattress and turned her body to its side slightly to finally give both Apolline and Bill a clear sight of where all that blood came from._

 _The skin of Fleur's back had been completely torn as if slashed open from the inside._

 _Had things been different, thought Apolline, that skin would have easily healed its' wounds and molded into its new magical properties. However, as things were, Fleur had little magic left in her to go on._

" _You may go now" The older woman's voice cut through his shock._

" _Go?" He couldn't believe her "I'm not going anywhere. specially not until she gets better"_

" _You are a smart man, Monsieur Weasley."_

 _The first glimpse of a real emotion in the Delacour matriarch's face and it was one he wished he hadn't been privy to. Sadness._

" _We both know she is not getting any better"_

 _She worked the first cloth on her daughter's back and it was completely red in an instant. The loss of that amount of blood would have been enough to consider lost any human, especially one as small as Fleur was but that wasn't a regular wound and Fleur was on her way to finally be a creature far from human. Or should have been._

" _There is nothing the both of us can do"_

 _He couldn't accept that. Bill struggled in his heart with too many questions to put forward but one thing remained most important to him. He loved Fleur. If they were not meant to be together, an idea he came to find it wasn't as scary as he would have thought to be, it did not make her matter any less to him._

" _Then I'm going to find the one who can!" Wand in hand, he looked at Apolline expectantly "There must be a spell that will help us find whoever it is and bring them to her"_

" _Where dwell the brave at heart..." Apolline muttered humously. "A gryffindor, of course"_

" _There is no need to waste your energy in such a brave quest, Monsieur Weasley. My daughter knows exactly who can make this a lot less painful for her"_

" _Then…"_

" _Fleur has chosen to go through this on her own"_

 _Bill was troubled "Why would she...why would anyone choose that?"_

 _Apolline's hand stalled her ministrations briefly. A short spell magically dried the cloth once more and she resumed asepsising the wounds._

" _That is a very good question even if I believe it is not the one that truly matters right now" Apolline cautioned._

" _I will answer your question not as Fleur's mother, Merlin knows I haven't been the most successful at such, but as a critical observer of her actions and what it entails"_

 _The small confession did not come as a surprise to him after all his time getting to know Fleur. She would look even more detached than usual whenever her mother was mentioned. It was the easiest way to have her close down._

 _Suddenly things made all the more sense._

" _My daughter saw the existence of a...mate, if you would call it, much like an arranged marriage. The idea that somewhere in the world someone would have no choice but to be bound to her because of a curse of all things...Well she never truly accepted that."_

 _She continued with a hint of amusement "What she did not expect was to fall in love. In love with the person. To admire them and love who they are for who they are. Quite the turnout, I would say."_

 _Perhaps rubbing salt to his wound wasn't the best of Apolline's moves but he was an undesirable reminder of her daughter's poor decisions along with her current circumstance._

" _Nothing against you in particular, Monsieur Weasley. I know you are a good man and had it been you the stars had chosen for my daughter's companion… I wouldn't have been terribly disappointed"_

 _From this force of nature, he was sure 'not terribly disappointed' was the highest he praise he'd get._

 _To think all he had to do was not get expelled from Hogwarts for his mother to be proud of him._

" _Nevertheless, I must admit they were good to her." The Delacour matriarch conceded "Not all veelas can be as lucky as to have their magic bound to someone as grand as the 'brightest witch of her age'"_

 _He gasped as she stared back at him in defiance._

 _There was no mistaking who that was._

 _Had there been signs? How had he not noticed something so significant. His little brother's best friend. His girlfriend was bound to his little brother's crush._

 _It felt different. It was one thing to think of Fleur's mate as some unknown. It was another to know who they were, to know not long ago they shared a roof, they ate side by side at the same table and mourned together the loss of friend in Sirius Black._

 _It was a person of flesh and blood and he knew them. It felt nauseating._

" _However, you know Fleur. That wasn't enough to deter her fears and easily she started to consider that her love was only returned because of a curse and not for who she was. That fear was only fueled by her mate's initial shame and denial of their connection."_

 _There was too much blame to throw around, thought Apolline._

" _There is an element of bad timing that is instrumental to the closing act of this story. Sometimes people can be the right one for someone else, perfect even, but they may meet too early or too late in their lives to make that connection. Hence, young and stupid are words that come very easily to mind"_

" _So the answer to your question, why she has chosen to go through this alone. Fleur believed herself not to be loved for who she was, but because of magic. That destroyed her in ways I find it hard to assess." Apolline said remorsefully._

" _On the other hand, she will tell you she is doing this alone because she can. That she can go through it and survive on her own"_

" _She won't be on her own" Bill finally declared "Even if she refuses to seek...her. I will not let her go through this on her own"_

" _Will you really?"Apolline smiled sadly._

" _Look at her, Monsieur Weasley. Look very closely if you believe you are going to put yourself through this along with her."_

 _The young blonde finally fell asleep, or passed out from exhaustion, Bill couldn't tell._

 _Fleur's back was nearly clean of blood and her wounds were completely exposed. He finally saw the cracks and scrambled bones in her back._

" _This will heal. It will take weeks, maybe months, but it will close and she will survive. Then someday not too far off her claws will push through her hands and maybe she will heal and survive once more. Until the bones of her feet break and tear, and then perhaps the bones in her head finally come to mold and…"_

 _She sighed. "There's no magic without paying for its price. Our magic comes from our love and without love, without magic...There is no happy ending to doing this alone"_

 _Bill Weasley clutched his wand in a death grip and sat on the floor by the door. He was still not leaving, but he could not stand. And he let himself cry._

" _What is it? What is then the question that matters now?" he asked quietly after some time._

"' _Why will she continue to do this alone?'" She told him. "And the easy answer to that question is…"_

" _Pride" He surprised both the Delacour matriarch and himself but he knew his answer was right "Pride will get her killed"_

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"Tu doit prends soin de toi, Fleur" Bill scolded her in broken french.

"Enough of this, Madame Delacour" She glared daggers at him in return. "I feel fine and…"

The noise of rustling plants got both their attention.

Suddenly they both became more aware of their surroundings and had their wands at the ready.

"I think someone was here" she said.

Bill felt torn. He knew he had to check but didn't want to leave the veela alone.

"Go! I can take care of myself" she urged him, furious at his apparent concern with her.

Her eyes changed lightly of colour as she scanned the area and Bill ran towards the sound had come from. He was fast, faster than a regular man would have been, but he found nothing.

There were some footprints all around but that was expected from the amount of people going around the terrain for the wedding preparations and he didn't pick up on any unknown or unexpected scent.

He went back to where he had left the veela and rushed to her side when he saw her nose was bleeding.

"Fleur! Why did you do this? You know you can't…You just wasted your energy on nothing!" Bill was livid.

"It wasn't nothing… It doesn't make sense, but it certainly wasn't nothing"

Fleur stared intently back at the curious looking house and inside the poorly cleaned window that showed her own mother holding one Hermione Granger.


	8. Chapter 7

Hey guys,

Here is me (trying) fulfilling my promise :) worked extra to get this one done (3.a.m here o/) before I move again so it didn't go all long hiatus again. So like always any nonsense or mistakes are strictly my fault. I thank you all so very much for all the feedback! It is great to read what you guys are thinking and i'm very very greatful!

Here it is and hope you like it

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She rolled around on the ground in what was a terribly executed landing. Her body was stopped by a large stone that Hermione quickly identified as a tombstone. Her knees were scraped and she had a hard time getting up, leaning on the tombstone for support.

She sat on the tombstone trying to regain her breath and make sense of what she had just learnt.

Fleur was dying. She didn't know how or when but it was a fact. She was dying and they all kept that from her. Fleur, Apolline, Gabrielle...even Bill could have been the one to warn her but they all chose to hide it.

The worst of it was that she had felt it. She hadn't known what it was that she had been feeling but she could feel their connection waning and Fleur's presence around her grow more distant. She had had days of nausea and terrible aches, and throughout it all she had blamed her depression and alcohol induced state. Hermione thought of how many times in that day she had wondered that, perhaps, if she hadn't been so engrossed in herself she would have noticed what was going on right in front of her.

She saw the tear falling on her hand before she felt herself to be crying. She was in the midst of an important mission set forth by Dumbledore and essential to the defeat of the Dark Lord and she felt detached from it all. She should be the one by Fleur's side, helping her, and here she was...wherever it was that Harry had taken them after dragging her away from the Burrow and Fleur.

She knew he had made the right thing yet she still felt enraged. It didn't matter the possibility of time anomalies, nor the horcruxes nor Voldemort.

It seemed all the less important to save everyone when she couldn't save the one she loved. She wondered if that made her 'a selfish child' like Fleur had called her.

Yet, these last years had shown her what life without the french veela felt like. That life she had been leading wasn't worthy of saving to her anymore. She needed to save Fleur just as much as she needed to help Harry stop Voldemort.

They needed to sort out this mess with the Slytherin's locket and go back to Grimmauld Place so they could reconnect with the Order and she would find Fleur no matter what.

With the incentive of her new plans in mind, she knew they had to move fast but as she moved to get up, the name engraved in the tombstone she sat on caught her attention.

"Ignotus Peverell" was engraved in the battered grave and on top of it a symbol she had come to be familiar through the book left to her by Dumbledore.

"Look at this! Harry, that's the mark from the book" exclaimed Hermione as she saw Harry standing not too far from her.

Harry did not answer her though.

She looked around the quaint looking village. Behind them there was a small church and the graveyard was by a narrow road, with very similar cottages all around, that led to what looked to be a square.

There was a familiar feeling to the village and suddenly Hermione realized where Harry had brought them. She took a few steps to where he stood quietly and said "We're in Godric's Hollow"

"Yes, we are" he replied sadly. His goal had been to apparate to Godric's hollow but in the haste from escaping Bill and Fleur he lost direction at the landing, or perhaps not, for he got up right by his parents.

"This is dangerous, Harry. They will all expect you to come here, they must have people waiting for you" said Hermione.

"Right now, they expect us to be at Fleur and Bill's wedding" he replied.

He shook his head and asked her "What were you saying about a mark?"

"This one" She pulled out Dumbledore's copy of Beedle the Bard and walked towards the Peverell tombstone. "At first I thought it was an eye. It isn't any rune I could recognize and it's not in any syllabary I had at the Burrow"

"Someone inked it in the book…"

Harry scrunched his face "Wait, that's it. Luna's dad! The necklace he was wearing at the wedding had that symbol. I remember because Krum was livid with him for wearing it. Something about a dark wizard called Grindelwald"

Hermione grimaced at the mention of Krum "We are going to have to visit the Lovegoods then. I hope they were able to escape. At least we might find out why someone would draw this in a children's book"

"But first we need to steal back from the thief" He threw the cloak over their heads once more.

"And that's why we are here. Mundungus last hideout, according to the Order's scouts, was here in Godric's hollow." said Harry "Apparently, many abandoned their houses here afraid that He might come here again or that wizards start sacrificing people in his name"

"That's awful" Hermione grimaced.

"And convenient to one without conscience such as him" said Harry.

Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead in pain.

"Can you feel it?"

"Yes. It is definitely here, but we must be-"

Across the graveyard and on the street a heavily muffled figure hobbled in their direction. Harry thought it to be a woman but her dark clothes made it hard to be certain. She moved slowly due to what they would guess to be old age but there was no mistake she was coming towards them.

Hermione and Harry held their breaths, waiting to see what the old woman would do.

Instead of continuing her walk, she halted and stood in the entrance to Godric's hollow graveyard staring at them. There was no mistaking whether that woman was a muggle or a witch. If anything, both Harry and Hermione thought that the woman knew exactly where they were and who they were. What by rules of magic ought to be impossible, the woman appeared to see them clearly even under the cloak.

The old woman put an end to their doubts when she raised her hand and beckoned them to come to her.

Hermione didn't like the situation at all and held back a shriek when she felt Harry move towards the woman. They had to focus on finding the slytherin's locket and getting out of Godric's Hollow and back to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Still, Harry's suspicion of the woman's identity was growing by the second and he simply had to be sure.

"Are you Bathilda? Bathilda Bagshot?" asked Harry.

The woman nodded slowly and once more gestured for them to come. Harry turned to Hermione earnestly asking her for them to follow through with this and with a tiny nod, Hermione acquiesced.

Underneath the cloak, both gryffindors followed the woman closely along the empty streets and all the way to an unkempt house by the bridge. It didn't look like somebody had lived in that house for a long time and it made the feeling of dread all the more prominent in Hermione.

The house stenched and so did the author of _A history of Magic_. She closed the door behind them and Hermione worked hard to hold her breath. Bathilda was tiny when observed up close, probably sunken by old age. Her eyes so thick with cataracts, Hermione wondered how she could see or if her sight was a byproduct of magic and that explained how she could see through the cloak. If that was true, the tiny stooped woman would be a lot more powerful than appearance showed.

She barged through them, hitting Hermione as if she hadn't known her to be there, or not caring, and moved towards the next room.

"I don't feel good about this, Harry" whispered Hermione.

"I can feel it, Hermione" said Harry "The locket is not to far from here. What if she has the sword? She was friend's with Dumbledore, right? We can find both the locket and Gryffindor's sword!"

"Are you sure it's the locket you feel?" Asked Hermione.

"What else could it be?" He replied.

"Come!" They heard the woman call from the other room.

"We need to be efficient, Harry." concluded Hermione "You look for the locket and I'll try to get something out of...that"

She walked from underneath the cloak and pushed Harry towards the door. "Be quick and I'll stall"

With her wand clutched in her hand, Hermione walked inside the next room where Bathilda Bagshot moved slowly around the room lighting candles one by one. Hermione stood by the doorway, with her back to the wall, and watched the old woman go about lighting each candle with the use of a matches instead of magic.

When had Hermione ever seen a wizard or a witch light a fire without magic?

Hermione thought about lighting the candles herself but she had to stall. So, as she waited, she observed Bagshot's living room...if it could be called that. There was dirt everywhere. In fact it looked worse than when they had first arrived in 12 Grimmauld Place. If Rita Skeeter had taken the time to come here and pummeled information out of the woman the least she could have done was keep it habitable. But what good could be expected from Skeeter.

There were stacks of books and a dozen or so empty photograph frames all dusty beyond measure. Hermione moved closer, minding not to let her back be towards the door, and muttered a short cleaning spell and the dust vanished from the surfaces. Bagshot's head shot in her direction immediately but then she went back to fumbling with the logs of the fireplace, to Hermione's relief.

One of the books caught her attention. It looked new and a lot cleaner than the other ones, even before her spell, so she grabbed it. Of course Rita Skeeter would send the old woman a signed copy of her filthy book. The one she used an array of what Hermione was sure to be considered forbidden methods to extract memories from the old historian. _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore._

The few photographs that hadn't been taken down were all of the same young man. " _Lumos"_ said Hermione. The small cabinet looked almost like a shrine to the young man. He must have been someone important to the older witch so Hermione thought it to be a safe conversation starter "Who is this man, Mrs. Bagshot? Is he your...son?"

Hermione grimaced. By her estimate on the old woman, he would have to be at least her grandson...if the picture had been taken before her parents had been born.

Bagshot showed no sign she had heard Hermione's words and kept on trying to light the fireplace.

"Ok...Is there a reason you called us here, Mrs. Bagshot?" Hermione went straight to the point but once again she got no reaction from the old witch.

Something was definitely wrong. She needed to find Harry and get out of there with the locket. They would worry about the sword later.

However, when she took a tentative step back towards the door, Bagshot succeeded in lightning the fireplace and finally looked back to the place where Hermione stood.

The problem was, Hermione realized, that Bagshot wasn't looking at her but at the tip of her wand.

"Are you Potter?" Bagshot breathed with difficulty.

"No" Hermione replied quietly. Her grip on her wand tightening.

"Where is Potter?" hissed the old woman.

"He is coming, he will be just a-"

"Where is Potter?!" shouted Bagshot and in a space of few seconds a number of things happened that terrified Hermione.

As the woman shouted, her small body collapsed on the ground as though it melted and from her insides crawled out a large snake ready for an attack.

Hermione's blood ran cold as she watched in slow motion the snake's open jaw flying straight at her.

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 _It was October 30 of 1994 and Hermione was up in the scantily filled gryffindor common room. Perhaps it was the fallback from all the excitement of announcement of the Triwizard Tournament or maybe all the food everybody had eaten, but it was barely half past eight and most students had retired to their beds. Tomorrow night would be Halloween and the triwizards champions for each school were going to be selected by the Goblet of Fire._

 _Everybody wanted to wake up early to watch the older students put their names in the goblet of fire. Hermione was more busy researching the history of the tournament and growing progressively more worried by what might happen at the school that year._

 _The brunette witch had been so focused on pages of the book that she almost missed the familiar creature flying swiftly outside the large windows of the common room. She jumped to the window just in time to see what she was sure to be Buckbeak flying towards Hagrid's hut._

 _She still had sometime before curfew so, without hesitating, Hermione grabbed her wand and ran out of the Gryffindor tower through the nearly empty Hogwarts corridors and out of the castle. As she neared Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden forest something surprised her. The gigantic blue carriage that had arrived earlier that night was parked not too far away with the huge flying horses laying beside it._

 _Had she mistaken one of the Beauxbaton horses for Buckbeak? Before she could turn back and return to the castle she saw a glimpse of silvery feathers inside the woods and ran towards it._

" _Buckbeak!" called Hermione._

 _The hippogriff merely huffed in acknowledgement. He was too engrossed in the pile of ferrets by his paws to even turn his orange eyes her way._

" _Buckbeak, what are you doing here?! Is everything alright with Sirius?" Hermione was worried. Buckbeak was supposed to be with Harry's godfather and not flying around Hogwarts where anyone could see him and call the Ministry._

" _Did you not say your name was Witherwings?" a richly accented female voice questioned Buckbeak with humor and startled Hermione._

 _Buckbeak made a move that looked a lot like a shrug and kept on devouring his food._

 _Hermione had her wand pointed at the source of the voice immediately "Who are you?"_

 _The night seemed to grow darker in the forbidden forest, but the girl sitting elegantly on a tree log a few meters from where Hermione stood, gleamed in contrast to the surrounding blackness. Her skin glowed a light silvery hue that was made evident by the sheer darkness of the forest._

 _Their eyes locked on to each other and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Her large and deep blue eyes entranced Hermione. Butterflies set residence in Hermione's stomach and she was momentarily speechless. Hermione wondered what was it about that girl that evoked such deep sensations in her._

 _She first recognized not the face but the deep voice from earlier that evening. It was the same girl from Beauxbatons who had come to their table and asked for their bouillabaisse._

" _Zis lovely creature was 'ungry. Your forests are not like ours back in France. Zey are...dead inside" criticized the girl._

" _Lovely? Buckbeak?" questioned Hermione, her mind still in a daze._

 _The blonde raised an eyebrow at the sametime Buckbeak turned his head sideways, both creatures staring in an oddly similar fashion at her with humour._

 _Hermione shook her head. "Oh please I saved your life and you have me bow three times before I can get anywhere near you" She accused Buckbeak, who had no decency to look guilty and once more shrugged, this time making a huffing sound that made the blonde Beauxbatons student chuckle._

 _Hermione made the mistake of looking directly in her eyes again and felt the same cloud of daze trying to overcome her but this time she felt it trying to overpower her and was able to keep it at a distance of sorts. She still felt it around her tentatively but without overcoming her._

" _What are you?" Hermione asked bluntly._

 _Fleur laughed "Zat is very...direct of you"_

" _You were talking to Buckbeak" Hermione was too curious to be embarrassed for being called out._

 _The brunette's curiosity and genuine interest in her amused Fleur._

 _What the brunette didn't realize was that the veela was just as curious about her. She had just watched her own thrall be pushed aside with barely an effort by the young woman, afterall._

 _The bushy haired brunette had caught her attention somehow earlier in the feast. She wasn't necessarily the most beautiful in the room, she did nothing in particular to attract attention, unlike most of her peers, and there was no distinct way of determining whether she was particularly strong or smart. Yet, Fleur admitted to herself that she had been intrigued by the young woman. Not in her most optimistic dreams had she thought she would have the opportunity to satiated some of her curiosity on that very same evening._

" _We were both talking to 'im." Pointed out Fleur as Buckbeak looked annoyed at being the topic of conversation "Mais oui, I can understand 'im. What else?"_

" _Tonight at dinner boys...and some girls if I'm to be fair, were gaping at you like fools" scrutinized Hermione. She had denied it to Ron but it was just because he was acting like a fool himself and perhaps because she hadn't wanted to admit that the young woman had also left her temporarily speechless with her presence._

" _You don't think I'm pretty enough to be stared at without resorting to magic?" asked Fleur facetiously._

 _Hermione blushed profoundly and stuttered as she continued to relay her evidence ignoring the woman's question. Fleur held the chuckle she was bound to release to avoid further embarrassing the younger woman._

" _And your skin is shining all moon-bright like...like the veelas in the world cup!" exclaimed Hermione._

 _Her finding was only less triumphant by Buckbeak's snort and Fleur's clear amusement._

" _You really are a veela" said Hermione much less enthusiastically. Ron had been right afterall._

" _Oui, I am. Now zat you know what I am, perhaps you wouldn't mind pointin' your wand somewhere else?"_

" _I'm sorry." Hermione blushed and immediately put away her wand._

" _I don't think we started off on the right foot, so..." Hermione attempted to clean of her hands in her robe and walked to the sitting veela with an extended hand "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger"_

 _Fleur stared at her hand for a couple of seconds and the brunette almost regretted her action._

" _Fleur. Fleur Delacour." Fleur rose from the tree log but instead of grabbing the hand that was being offered to her, she walked a step further, into Hermione's personal space, and lightly touched her cheek with her lips._

" _Enchanté, Mademoiselle Granger"_

 _Hermione blushed from head to toe._

 _Fleur tried to contain her pleased smirk._

 _Buckbeak just rolled his eyes and grabbed another ferret._


End file.
